


Nothing More

by keishouta



Series: Remnants [1]
Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21887368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keishouta/pseuds/keishouta
Summary: It's very uncharacteristic for Qiu to reject a mission.
Relationships: Brother Qiu/He Cheng
Series: Remnants [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997263
Comments: 6
Kudos: 214





	Nothing More

Qiu woke up feeling like absolute shit. His throat burned, he couldn't breathe through his nose, and he felt hot and cold at the same time. In addition, his ribs hurt like hell. He had taken a few blows to the torso the previous day on a mission. Due to him being fucking sick, he had been off his game. He hadn't been on the receiving end of a punch in years, it might as well have been a punch to his pride. 

A head-splitting ring came from his phone. Qiu winced as he read the name on the screen - He Cheng. He cursed under his breath. He felt far from up for a mission right now. He could hardly get out of bed for fuck's sake.

Swiping to accept the call, He Cheng's low voice sounded through the speaker. "A-Qiu, I have something for you. Come over later."

Qiu fought to keep the coughs bubbling up in his chest down. "Is there someone else you could assign it to?" He grimaced at how hoarse his voice sounded, and hoped it couldn't be heard over the phone.

There was a short pause. "Why?" He Cheng asked. 

Qiu hated this. He had never rejected a mission before. His immune system was stellar. He wasn't known as He Cheng's right-hand man for no reason; he was the best of the best, or at least he was meant to be. "I can't do it," he answered. 

"Why?" He Cheng pressed. 

Qiu rolled his eyes. "I just can't," he insisted. He would rather drag his balls through shards of broken glass than admit to his boss that he was indisposed because of a mere flu and a few punches to the gut from men far below his skill level. 

He Cheng gave a non-committal hum. "Fine." He hung up straight after. 

Qiu's shoulders dropped, and he finally let himself cough until it felt like his lungs were going to eject themselves out of his body. His headache spiked every time he moved, but he still managed to drag himself to the kitchen and take several pills, before crashing back down on the bed. 

He must have only slept for half an hour before the doorbell rang. "Fucker!" Qiu yelled out in irritation. No way in hell was he about to get out of bed for anyone. 

The doorbell continued to ring, and Qiu vehemently ignored it with his pillow pressed firmly over his ears. Then, the unmistakable sound of the door unlocking was heard. Qiu groaned loudly. Fucker had a key, which meant it could only be one person - He Cheng. 

Seconds later, his boss entered his room and stood at the foot of the bed. "A-Qiu." 

Qiu kept his eyes shut. If Qiu could punch him right now, he would. But his body felt like lead. Also, he was his boss, but that was a smaller matter; it wasn't like him and He Cheng hadn't gotten in a fight before. Too tired to open his mouth, Qiu merely made a sound in response.

He Cheng's eyes scanned over the man. "You're not drunk. Are you sick?" he asked. 

Qiu threw his arm over his face and nodded once, the movement aggravating his headache and self-disgust. He hated admitting he was sick.

He Cheng blinked. "That makes sense. You don't usually reject missions." A pause. "Have you taken medication?"

Qiu reluctantly nodded again. He was sick of answering questions. He just wanted to go back to sleep. 

He Cheng frowned slightly. "I'll make you some tea."

Qiu could have gagged from the thought of consuming food. "No need, just leave," he muttered.

He Cheng stopped. "Do you not want me here?"

Qiu popped an eye open at the somewhat odd question. "You have other things to be doing," he pointed out.

"I do, but they can wait. I wanted to check on you." He Cheng replied. 

Qiu snorted. "That's not necessary. Since when did mafia bosses start checking up on their lackeys now?"

He Cheng stared back, his expression as hard-to-read as ever. "I wasn't aware we were still just boss and employee."

Upon hearing that, Qiu proceeded to choke on his spit, which quickly developed into a wet, painful cough that left him breathless and teary-eyed. He hacked and wheezed for air, and didn't even realise he had started to cough up blood. He faintly registered someone pushing tissues into his hands, which rapidly became stained with red. The coughing fit felt like it lasted forever, and it left Qiu hunched over, taking in deep gulps of much needed air. Someone - He Cheng - passed him a glass of water, which he swiftly grabbed and downed. After finally catching his breath, he turned his head away from his boss; he couldn't bear to look at him. 

He Cheng was eyeing Qiu's blood-stained hands in surprise. "You're hurt." He Cheng said, almost in disbelief. 

Qiu held back a sarcastic comment about He Cheng's observation skills and continued to stare at the floor.

He Cheng stepped closer towards Qiu, bent over and lifted the hem of his shirt up to reveal dark, nasty bruises scattered all over his chest and abdomen. "You didn't tell me you got hurt during yesterday's mission."

Qiu swatted his hand away forcefully. "Because it's nothing."

He Cheng cocked an eyebrow. "Is coughing blood 'nothing' now?"

Qiu looked up to glare at him. 

He Cheng returned an unimpressed look and reached into his pocket. "I'll call the doctor here."

Qiu pursed his lips. "No need," he growled. 

"Didn't ask for your opinion," He Cheng replied calmly, already texting someone on his phone. 

"Fuck you." Qiu spat out. 

He Cheng's tone softened. "Behave."

A moment of silence, then Qiu grunted. "Suit yourself, I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll wake you up when he comes," He Cheng said. 

Qiu grumbled. "Don't you have better shit to do?"

He Cheng spared him an unreadable glance. "No, I don't," he answered matter-of-factly, then turned to leave the room. 

Qiu stared at his closed bedroom door, allowing a few weak coughs to escape his lips. He was far too tired to hold them back anymore, let alone try and comprehend what He Cheng meant. He waited for the sound of his boss leaving his apartment, but it never came, so he gave up and let exhaustion pull him under.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, I hoped you enjoyed reading this! I really would love to know what you think, so please tell me something in the comments!


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